Happy birthday, Dad. Here’s your birthday present. It’s on the coffee table opposite your favorite chair. Yeah, that’s right, the black wicker chair with the green cushions. I hope you don’t mind, but when I feel sad and depressed, and especially when I miss you the most, I sit in it. You know, on days like today, your birthday.
I know you can’t open it, Dad. So I’ll open it for you, if that’s okay with you. Oh look, it’s a framed photo of the two of us when I graduated from college. You always loved this photo, didn’t you, Dad? I’m going to put it right here on the coffee table so you can see it from your favorite chair.
I miss you, Dad.
Written for Cyranny’s One Minute Fiction Challenge. Note: this is flash fiction, my father died in 1988, so no condolences are necessary.